


The Fellowship of South Park

by snackysmores



Category: South Park
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-23
Updated: 2014-06-23
Packaged: 2018-02-05 20:50:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1831825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snackysmores/pseuds/snackysmores
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The young adults of South Park are leaving the roost together to become adventurers, splitting off into parties to find fame and fortune.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fellowship of South Park

**Author's Note:**

> Written pre-Stick of Truth, the classes are more based on The Return of the Fellowship of the Ring to the Two Towers. Probably not going to revisit this one until I finish Shadow over South Park and Eric Cartman Is A Fuckin' Fatass.

"Yeeup we had quite the adventures, Ned and I. Isn’t that right Ned?" Jimbo’s rocking chair creaked on the back porch as Ned helped Stan fletch his arrows. "Nnnnsome fine hunting, Jimbo." Ned croaked, scratching at the scarred wound at his throat from days past. The trophies of their checkered partnership was displayed on every wall inside and outside Jimbo’s log cabin. Skulls, horns, antlers, hides, scales. "Hunted at least one of every animal you could think of, and then some. And to think we could all live to see you kids off. Never had the gumption to settle down myself, but I’m damn proud of you Stan and I know your father is too."

Stan flexed the bow in his arms, training his sights at a target and testing the tension of the string. Stan’s parents, and every other parent in South Park with a story of an old quest told their children about what a grand experience their first quest would be. The promising young folk of the town were to set out that very night and Stan couldn’t sleep. The only people he could talk to that would be up before dawn would be Uncle Jimbo and his hunting partner for life, Ned. Jimbo was fat and bigheaded and boastful, but a crackshot and a master woodsman. Ned was tall and gaunt, with a haunted face and innumerous scars- not much for words since he’d nearly had his throat torn out on safari, but that only made his stories more interesting. You’d have to be completely quiet and stand close to listen to that low, wheezing rasp as Ned told of his improbable exploits and death-defying encounters. Stan wondered once how it was that Ned was so marred by his past and Jimbo barely had a cut on him.

 

Randy always encouraged Stan to learn from his Uncle. Randy spent his career in the mountains and the underground and what Stan loved most was the forest. He had every qualification of a first-rate ranger and he had his upbringing to thank for that. With a few exceptions most of his friends learned their craft from their parents to prepare them as adventurers. “Tell me again, what was it like? I can’t imagine all of you adults actually questing together.”

Jimbo spat into the dirt, helping by whittling arrow shafts from choice pieces of wood. “Well, everyone fit to leave the village travels together, at first. Safer that way…But after your first campaign…I think you’ll find a group naturally divides up.” Stan phased out briefly at that, eyes blearily taking in the sky overhead as he looked through the feathered fletching of an arrow. Everyone he knew seemed tightly knit…But the big 4 would be together at least, he was sure of that. Stan was the ranger, Cartman was the wizard, Kenny was the rogue, and Kyle was the paladin. A perfectly rounded party and the best of friends. They’d journey across the land and become famous as heroes of the realm.

"There was Ned and I of course. Your father, a ranger like you. Gerald was our cleric, and we certainly needed one…Met that witch Shiela on his travels…Seems to me they’re together cuz she’s the only other elf he could find out here in the middle of nowhere…Kenny’s father was our rogue and married a rogue just like himself. They may seem rough around the edges, but…Maybe there’s one couple in a thousand who really do benefit from beating the hell out of eachother. Hey Ned, if it really came down to it who do you think would win in a fight?" Jimbo took a breath and looked toward Ned for his response. "Nnn,Mrs.Mccormick."

"Who else was with us…" Jimbo rambled, stroking his chin. "Cartman’s mother…That lewd witch sired her own young. A deal with the devil I’d wager based on how that fat demon came out." Stan grinned. Cartman was a good friend, but he was vicious to anyone outside of his circle. Even among friends Eric would torment you if you gave a good enough reaction like Kyle did. 

"We journeyed to the Tower of True Sight and all saw our greatest desires…Ned and I saw a dragon and its hoard. Of course…We never did kill one of those. Not a proper dragon…Too big, too old, and too powerful for two bowmen…" Stan had to take pause looking at the subtle expressions on Ned and Jimbo. A hunt they had to walk away from…It must still be a regret to them. One day he’ll bring them a piece of a dragon and its loot. "So…If you don’t see the same thing you just…Go your seperate ways?" Stan wondered if their group would see anything in common with eachother.

"Adventuring is do or die Stan. So you’ve gotta be willing to die for a cause you believe." The four of us…Stan thought, we’ll have a shared destiny. We just have to. "That’s two full quivers of the finest damn hand-made arrows I’ve ever laid eyes on. It’ll be a shame to put one in anything less than your worst enemy, but try one out will ya?" Stan accepted an arrow from Jimbo that had just been finished. Red and brown striped fletching, blackened shaft, and a barbed tip of fine sharpened steel from Jimbo’s own stash. Orcish he had been assured, barbed to make enemies bleed out. Stan aimed high and released. "Now damnit boy, that’s not how I taught you to shoot!" Jimbo huffed as the arrow went wide of the pointed bullseye target. "Nnno, he hit it. I can smell it. Pheasant blood. 50 yards away." The two hunters grinned at Stan.

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

"Artemis Clydefrog! Artemis Clydefrog! Mooom, where the fuck is my familiar!" Eric stamped his feet and the hems of his robe flew about, his mother taking a much undeserved break from helping him pack for his first expedition, petting Mr.Kitty on her lap with a mess of beakers and reagents on the table in front of her; bottling an array of materials for her son to use. "Now darling if you’d just call out to your familiar nicely I think you’ll find it much sooner…"

"It’s my fucking familiar mom, and I’m leaving tonight! Artemis…! Oh. There you are." Cartman blinked numbly seeing his pet frog peeking from the pocket of his pack he was keeping bait in. He scooped the frog into his palm and stroked its warty back. Cartman had trained to use Artemis as a focus for extra spells and magical tricks, the familiar being a part of every wizard’s training. That knife-eared Elf Kyle always wrinkled his nose at Clydefrog and that penny pilfering street urchin Kenny often threatened to eat his poor pet- fry him up and dip him in melted butter. Which didn’t sound bad, but Artemis was a very special frog to Cartman

"Gee Eric, you sure do have a lot of cool stuff already, why are you even adventuring again?" Clydefrog couldn’t really talk like a master wizard’s familiar might, but Cartman often pretended it could with an act of ventriloquism… "That’s a fine question Artemis, I’m going on a journey to see to it that my lame friends don’t get themselves killed. Along the way my powers will grow exponentially and I’ll find powerful artifacts of magic…Maybe a scroll that will let me turn Stan into a squirrel. Or a wand that will turn Kyle into my slave…" Damnable Kyle, he’d only recently decided to change paths from a cleric to a paladin and the move was baffling. Elves can’t be paladins. They can’t be heroes. He’s just supposed to sit in the back and heal him while he nukes monsters from the ether with arcane fire.

"Mommy is so excited for her magic pumpkin to have an adventure with all of his little friends." Cartman’s mother cooed, "I’ve got all of your clothes washed, and your reagents organized, and your flasks sterilized…There are some nummy baked goods you can share…Is there any room in your bag for this story book, sweetie? It’s always been your favorite…! Maybe you can ask for someone in your party to read it to you when you miss your mommy, hmm?" It may have sounded like teasing but the doting witch meant every word of her syrupy maternal love and it drove her son crazy.

"Myeaaaaaaaaam, I’m not bringing my story book on my super cool adventure everyone will think I’m totally laame!" Cartman protested.

"But you’ll have to share stories around the fire at night! Oh, I’m sorry honey bear, maybe I’ll miss you more than you miss me…" Diane huddled over to lean down and hug her stocky son’s shoulders. Cartman sighed heavily and took the time to hide his face into the hug. He would miss her…A little. But he had to go and become a powerful wizard with his own castle, and he’d come back to bring her mother there and let her live in comfort. As he got older he became more understanding of how difficult life had been for his mother, black magic wasn’t often portrayed in the best light, and even in a town full of ex-adventurers she was given a wide berth and blamed for any number of problems just for being herself. It may be a long time until he came back…That bag of homemade baked goods wouldn’t last long. "No, I’ll miss you too."

"So you’ll take the book?" his mother sang brightly. "Mom!" Cartman groaned.

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Kyle tried to hide his displeasure looking at the next parting gift from his parents. “No, mom, it…It really is a great suit of armor but…” It’s way too gaudy, Kyle thought. Shining steel and gold trim…Why not just wear a bright red cape and a crown of gemstones while he was at it. Not to mention what a pain it’d be just moving around in it…

"But what!" his mother had her hands to her hips and the usual knitted scowl on her face whenever someone dared not to go along with everything she said.

Kyle took a long pause hoping his mother’s quick temper would diffuse. “But…I’m just going to wear the banded leather armor I made with Stan. This suit’s too ornamental. I’ll feel bad getting it dirty.” Sheila dug in against her son’s sound and logical hang-ups for taking the armor. “You’re a paladin bubby! You’ll look so handsome in that suit a princess will need to rescue /you/ from a dragon!”

Kyle rolled his eyes and was grateful to see his father Gerald come in the room after sending Ike out on an errand, his little brother acting mopey all morning knowing Kyle was finally leaving and he was going to be stuck in South Park without him. “Maybe Kyle’s right Sheila, that’s a heavy suit of armor to take and he spent a lot of time making that banded leather set with Stan”

"Stan, Stan, Stan- you’re not going for Stan, you’re going to find your destiny! You ought to meet it in your best!" Putting aside what Kyle thought of Stan or of his ‘destiny’ Gerald pressed the conversation for him, his father was always very empathetic and persuasive. Stan’s uncle Jimbo had really painted Gerald to be an incredible orator and diplomat and Kyle could believe it even if his mother won most of their arguments. Gerald sought a compromise, turning his attention to his son."Why not just take the sword and shield, Kyle? They’re very well made and carry the family crest. I don’t suppose you mean to use a wooden shield and one of Stan’s extra blades?"

"I…Guess I could do that." Kyle studied the oversized sword and shield. He didn’t like them. Looking at them made him feel smaller than he was, and wielding them wouldn’t be much better.

Gerald smiled and looked patiently to his wife. “There, see? Kyle will need a nice, clean suit of armor for when he finds his destiny and it’ll be right here waiting. In the meantime he’ll put the wear on what he really needs.” Gerald brings down the armaments and Shiela sighs, relenting. “Our boy…Going off into the woods with an elf-hating wizard, a poison brewing cutpurse, and a mountain man with a weak stomach.” His mother displayed only as much tolerance for his choice of friends as was needed, but she regularly wished that he’d spend time with people she found more ‘suitable’, like Token or Butters. Suitable meaning…Well, overly nice and normal and not ‘weird’. But Kyle liked his weird friends. With maybe the exception of Cartman.

He couldn’t imagine travelling with anyone else, he could easily imagine a tapestry with the four of them telling of their great deeds together. They were a well rounded party…He hoped. He had decided on being a paladin thinking that their group didn’t have a strong enough line of offense…But everyone questioned if he could be that. Kyle intended to prove everyone wrong. Maybe no one had heard of an elf paladin before, but it was time to change all that. “I’ll keep them in line, mom.” his parents smiled in a way he didn’t quite care for, but as long as they were done giving him a hard time…The three of them pressed in for a hug and his parents said a prayer for his journey. Speaking in Elvish…He wondered what it’d be like, living in a town of all elves…He wanted to see one one day. Hear it all around him. Laugh when the locals rip on Eric’s round ears maybe. “Corinth watch over me.”

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Kenny sighed heavily, tugging down the fur-lined hood of his coat. He was planning on just getting his shit together and leaving before his parents could get a word in…But there they were…There they were. Fighting as usual. “That knife was special, you drunk asshole! I was saving it to give to Kenny and you pawned it off!?” Carol raged and threw an empty scabbard at her partner, sending him ducking for cover. “Well shit, how was I supposed to know! We’ve got more fucking knives around this god damn house than I know what to do with! Just give him another one!”

Stuart regretted pawning the knife off, but when he was out of drink, he’d sell just about anything. Carol brandished a knife in each hand, still shouting. “I’ve got a couple I’m thinking of giving you! Right up your ass, you prick! Handle and all!”

"MOM. DAD." Kenny spoke up. He very rarely spoke up, and this was so that they would listen when he did. "I’ve got my own knives…All sharpened and oiled and ready to go." Their parents looked at eachother and as usual their eyes melted and they slipped their arms around eachother. That’s just how they operated. Seeing them explode in anger and hearing them makeup so often made Kenny a bit numb to the process, but he could appreciate in a weird way that these two people were made for eachother. "Shit. Sorry, Ken. I’ve done wrong by you and your mom…We really do want to give you something useful that’ll remind you of us." Stuart pulled in his son and Kenny tried to keep his suffocation brief.

"You’ve taught me everything I know, that’s more than enough." How to stomach a poison, take a punch, to go unseen and strike when the enemy is weakest…His parents were a pair of bonafide cutthroats and he got the master’s course growing up. "Hell if it ain’t. Just wait a damn second now, I’ve got a good knife you ought to take." His dad went rooting through old chests and his mother started preening her son like a bird. "We’re going to miss you Kenny, your brother and sister will miss you too. Don’t you go dying for nothing. We trained you better than that."

"I won’t die, mom." She was startled briefly by the conviction Kenny had said that…But she smiled and squeezed his upper arm. "I know. See if you can’t keep your friends alive too, they’ve been good friends to you. Even the fat one." Kenny affirmed that he would make sure of that as well. "You think it’d be alright if we parted with this, dear…?" Kenny’s eyes smoothed over to the blade in his father’s hands, by the look of trepidation on his mother’s face he could tell it was rather special… 

"That’s the knife we made our vows with…" Carol and Stuart shared a tender moment, each looking over the blade. "It’s the knife our son should make his with." Kenny looked between them, but the knife pulled his attention. A full tang handle with polished finger grooves, a spiked heavy rear bolster, a depressed spine curving up to a tapered point, and near the hilt over two inches of staggered serrations. In his mind’s eye he could see it slipping into someone’s back as easy as a key in a lock, and its turn would kill effortlessly.

"Your mother and I got in a lot of shit in our day, each had to bail eachother out of this prison or that bandit camp and one time I thought I had nearly lost her…I couldn’t afford a ring good enough, so we made vows on this blade." Kenny’s father pulled up his ring to show a scar on the underside of his ring finger. Kenny cocked and eyebrow and asked, "So when I find someone I like I ought to brandish this knife at them, huh?" Kenny’s parents laughed and the knife was clasped into his palm, Kenny testing its weight.

"Well, when you say it like that…" His father frowned, scratching the back of his head. "Use it how you see fit. Cut your way to that person. Keep the both of you safe." Kenny could understand that. He nodded and pulled up his hood, pulling his bag onto his shoulders and waving goodbye to his parents.

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Everyone in South Park even remotely related to one of the departing adventurers came to the arranged picnic, sharing food and best wishes. Butters was technically grounded but…But he couldn’t be left behind! He saw his friends (Butters considered everyone a friend) eating, and talking, and having such a good time…”Heya fellas!” Butters had on his nicest clothes and a new mandolin on his back. Butters trained as a bard having great talent as a dancer and a talent for settling disputes with words. His friend Kenny had a lovely singing voice but had taken to following in his parent’s footsteps like most others…Unlike most of his friends his parents weren’t adventurers and he often felt left out, but he had put his best foot forward as always.

"Hey Butters." Kyle at least spoke to him as the others were caught adrift in a stream of their own conversations. "That’s some nice lookin’ gear you got there!" Butters beamed and Kyle sighed, "Yeah, my parents gave it to me." Butters cocked his head, certain he’d seen a nicer set of armor that was Kyle’s size in the Elf’s household."Didn’t they have a set of white, shining armor to give you?" Kyle averted his eyes and excused himself, "They did…But…Well, I just didn’t want to get it dirty, you know?"

Kenny sidled up close to his large wizard friend Cartman. “So you brought along extra provisions. I trust you’ll be sharing with your best friend, right?” Cartman huffed, Kenny was a very touchy feely friend. “Normally I would be insulted by such plain and obvious ass kissing…But I can appreciate the concept of being nice to someone to get into their foodstuffs. I’ve prepared a spell for easy meals, but the goods in this bag are baked by my mother just for me.” Cartman hugged his pack defensively as Kenny kept trying to get some charity. “Hmm, seems like your mom usually tells you to share…And besides I was talking about your frog.” Cartman jumped at that. “AY! You stop making hungry eyes at Artemis you street rat!”

Butters pointed out the other infamous young paladin in town to Kyle. “Looks like Token’s not worried about getting his armor dirty.” Kyle sighed seeing him, now there was a proper looking paladin. He looked like a panther in steel and Kyle looked like a mouse in leather…

"Well met." Token strode over to Kyle and Butters seeing their eyes lock on him, practicing the sort of greeting he’d use when visiting a royal court. "You’re welcome to join up with my camp, you two…I know I’d feel pretty vulnerable travelling with those three…" he looked with a tinge of contempt at the glutton wizard, perverted thief, and the daydreaming ranger. Butters smiled and politely turned Token down. "Shucks, I appreciate the offer. I’ll come around if they prove too much to handle!" Kyle was glad to have Butters as a buffer and held in his scowl until Token left them. He had a great party…Though he didn’t remember Butters getting grouped with them, even as informal an arrangement it was.

"What’d the black knight want, Elf?" Cartman raised his voice to carry to Kyle who responded, "Nothing, fatass." Kyle returned to the group with Butters in tow who was showing off his new instrument to Kenny and telling him about a song he was working on that’d make a lovely duet. Kyle noticed that Stan had that familiar, wistful look on his face…A storm quietly brewing behind his eyes. Maybe he was just as nervous as Kyle was? "What’s wrong?" Kyle had to ask, but as usual Stan shook his head making his messy black locks follow. "It’s nothing. Just…Thinking."

"Well, uh…Don’t think too hard. Thanks again for helping me with my armor, I’d be walking in a shiny steel coffin if it wasn’t for you." Kyle felt his cheeks go warm as Stan looked him over closely. "It looks good. I mean, like it should protect you." Kyle stammered, looking down at his feet. "Yeah, it feels like it."

"Gonna actually hit anything with that sword on our adventure, knife ears? Or are you planning on selling it to the first merchant we meet at double value?" Cartman just had to interrupt, with an attack on his race as usual.

"You’ll be the first thing I hit if you don’t shut up, fatass!" Kyle didn’t need Eric to tell him…He knew he was green when it came to combat. When he tried to go hunting with Stan he’d sleep through the hunt and wake up to an offering of fresh meat, and whenever he practiced swordplay with Token he’d get so thoroughly trounced he felt like he didn’t learn much…But it had to change. He had to change, and be the strength the team needed.

Stan, Cartman, and Kenny exchanged glances. Even as Kyle told himself he had to protect the three of them, they were sworn to eachother to protect Kyle. None of them liked the idea of Kyle getting up close and personal with the enemy in real combat, it’d surely distract them keeping an eye on him…But whether they admitted it or not he was the arbiter by which they were held together.

"Aw geez, don’t fight fellas!" Oh, and then there was Butters. Stan didn’t care quite as much for him but he would be another liability for Kenny, Cartman, and even Kyle as the weakest squishiest link in their party.

Just as Kyle was ready to tell Butters not to bother defending him, some of their old academics instructors were called up to a stage to say a few words for the congregation at the picnic. “The moon’s starting on it’s journey into the east…And so are our boys, mmkay? We pray to the Sun to find them safe in the morning when their journey is through.” Professor Mackey fought back tears while Professor Garrison maintained his usual sardonic tone. “And don’t come back until it is done. I mean it, nothing worse than a quitter or a retired adventurer.”

As the young adventurers set out on their journey with their backs to the homeland, the flow of falling powder from the sky ceased, each cog of the hiking machine venting puffs of white breath into the air. The sky was not yet black with the coming night, but the twinkling stars were visible and held the gazes of the dreamers among them. Kenny smiled watching Stan point out an array of constellations to Kyle as Butters prattled on and on about the duet he’d been writing. “It’s about two seperated travellers that can’t seem to find eachother. One will follow until they give up and turn, only for the other to try again and follow. It’s not until they both give up that they meet together again.” Butters explained his concept, plinking on his mandolin.

"Cute." Kenny chuckled, tearing his eyes from Stan and Kyle, "A little childish though…" he offered some criticism. Butters frowned, "You think so?" Kenny nodded his head, pointing out, "They should never meet again. Just keep chasing eachother…People remember sad stories more than simple happy ones." Butters kicked at the snow under his high boots,"I can’t say I like that idea Kenny…"

"Too close to home?" Kenny sways in his step to bump shoulders with the blonde. "Shucks, what do you mean by that?" Butters looked perplexed. "We’re traveling together now. You’re a made man, your parents can’t ground you anymore." Kenny encouraged, Butters smiling. "I am glad for that…But…" The nervous bard stopped wringing his fingers and the evening was still with the crunch of two dozen marching feet, "But my mom said I’d get abandoned…On my own somewhere I’ve never been, where nobody knows my name," he shivered at the thought.

"She was just trying to scare you into not going. We’ll ditch Cartman sooner than we ditch you, Butters." Kenny laughed, a hand clasping and squeezing Butter’s shoulder.

"I’ve got my eye on you Kenny." Cartman stomped up, separating the two blondes by force. "I’ve booby trapped all of my belongings to be impervious to sneaky elves and pauper thieves alike, so don’t think you can just make off with my stuff."

"Challenge accepted." Kenny slapped Eric’s back, "I never could resist boobies. Or traps."

Once Stan ran out of constellations to name and Butters had stopped playing his mandolin, he found a disquieting silence between he and Kyle, finding that they had outpaced the group he slowed down somewhat only to notice Kyle was grateful for it, with puffs of erratic breath before him. “Winded already? You should have gone on more runs with me,” Stan lectured and Kyle looked petulant. Stan’s morning nature runs were always far too early and far too hectic for him. Typically he’d end up with a rolled ankle or left by himself on an unfamiliar trail when Stan lost track of him. “It’s my bag that’s weighing me down, my mom put in all this stuff I don’t need…Said I could barter with some of it once we make it to a town. And your runs are clearly more of a solo activity. Even Wendy couldn’t keep up with you.”

"Mm." Stan’s lips tightened at the mention of her name and Kyle felt bad for dragging her up out of the blue. She wasn’t that far behind them in the procession, hanging off of the oh so chivalrous, honorable, and don’t forget loaded with coin paladin in training Tolken; splitting up with Stan just a scant week before this very night. Kyle knew Stan had feelings for Wendy, though he’d chock up some to Stan’s romanticism and Wendy’s status as his only female friend as a child.

Kyle wouldn’t dare say it to Stan but he thought Wendy and Token made a better fit. Wendy was exasperated with all of the qualities Kyle found endearing in Stan, and all of the exasperating qualities Kyle saw in Token Wendy saw as endearing. Token was earnest, confident, social, and patient. Stan was secretive, moody, introverted, and always itching to be on the move. In short, Stan just wasn’t her type if you really thought about it. Kyle got Stan. He was as free as a bird and he sang the brightest with no cage.

Kyle hated to see his friend with a frown, and figured it was time to distract him. “I got you something. For the armor.” Kyle pulled his pack from his shoulder and started rooting through it as Stan fussed, “I told you you didn’t need to pay me back.”

"It’s not pay-back it’s a gift." Kyle tried to slide the issue. "A going away present." Stan contended, "We’re both going away, Kyle."

"A getting away present." Kyle was contented to see Stan happy with the concept. "Just shut up and accept it!" Kyle thrusted the slim purple bottle to Stan, who grabbed and inspected it carefully. "The label’s in…Elvish?" Stan turned it over in his hands, licking his lips seeing the red liquid inside slosh about.

"Spiced wine. Never cared for it…But I know you’re something of a connosieur of potables. You’ll be able to appreciate it more." Stan cradled the bottle in his palms awhile, "Thanks Kyle. I’m tempted to pop it open right now but…I know it’ll be up to me to set up the tents later. I actually have a getting away present for you too." Kyle was flabbergasted, "What? Really? What is it?" Stan tucked away the bottle and taunted, "You’ll find out…Later."

"Well remind me to cast a spell over their tent to mute all that." Cartman balked foreseeing Stan and Kyle getting intimate.

"That reminds me…" Butters wrings his hands as Kenny smirked, "Reminds you of what exactly…?" "Well, I didn’t bring a tent…Can I share with one of you fellas?"

"Oh hell no, if these two blondes share a tent they’re going to be having pillow talk until morning." Eric clenched his fist around his staff.

"Butters and I can sing you a nice lullaby and get by fine while you sleep," Kenny offered. "I don’t want a damn lullaby! And I’m definitely not falling asleep before you! Shifty rogue..," Cartman pulled away as Butters unwittingly joined Kenny in tormenting him, "What about a good bedtime story, Eric? I saw that fairytale collection in your bag, I could read to you…!" Stan and Kyle couldn’t help but laugh as Eric’s teasing came back around to torment him as usual.

"Well, as I expected, they’re not taking this very seriously are they?" Token looked up hearing the five boys and their jovial laughter, kicking up snow, pointing out stars in the sky. He couldn’t ignore how much attention Wendy was paying to the outliers among the larger assortment of would-be adventurers and hoped to steal some attention back with conversation. He rarely drove conversations, more often just listening to Wendy. "Just another camping trip to them…They really should be more mindful of their goal, shouldn’t they? It may be best for them just to quit now," Token looked to Wendy with a grin that quickly flattened seeing how peeved saying that made her. "Stan, Kenny, and even Cartman have really applied themselves to their training." Wendy tried to defend them.

"But not Kyle or Butters?" Wendy tucked her scarf tighter about her thin neck. "Butters is playing minstrel in dangerous lands…And Kyle…" Token appeased Wendy, "I can tell you were upset by what I said. I did not mean to belittle them, I share your feelings that I do not want to see harm come to them and wondered if it would not be best for them to accomplish that by staying out of harm’s way entirely. Kyle is very intelligent and virtuous. He is just not a good fighter. At all." The pair walking hand in hand watched the elf trip through the snow, clutching Stan’s arm to right himself. "We shall…Pray for them," Wendy sighed and hugged Token’s arm. "Yea, verily my lady." Wendy swooned a bit when Token talked like that.

"G-Gah! God…Oh god! Oh god!" a startled voice gasped from a tent late in the night…

Tweek’s head appeared from the flap of the tent he was sharing with Craig and Clyde, darting left and right looking into the dark forest, wide eyes falling from where it beheld the moon and scanning the green brush all around them. “Craig, will you shut him up!” Clyde stayed his hand from getting another wad of snow to throw at the spastic Tweak.

Craig flipped off Clyde and moved to block Tweek’s view of the woods. “What is it?”

"Th-There’s something out there! Gah! It’ll kill us all!" Tweek wrenched at his messy hair.

"What is out there?" Craig followed along, waiting to hear as Tweek wailed and spasmed. "Th-The monster! The monster our parents are sacrificing us all to! There’s no adventure, don’t you get it!?"

"I wouldn’t put that over our parents, but I know this adventure thing is the real deal. We got letters from some of the last group right?" Craig reasoned with the neurotic blonde but Tweek imagined up further conspiracies. "P-Planted! Rrgh! Forgeries!"

"You’re being paranoid," if Craig had a copper coin for every time he had to tell Tweek that…

"Y-You’ll see! They’ll attack at night! There’s no way I can sleep!" Tweek shivered and twitched.

"So, you’re on night watch duty. Got it. Get out of the tent so I can sleep." Clyde threw himself back onto his bedroll angrily, clutching his fists and shutting his eyes. Craig draped a fur over Tweek, bringing another for himself and easing him out of the tent. "Token. Get some rest. We’ll keep watch," Craig clasped a hand to Token’s shoulder, the paladin standing like a statue keeping watch on the inky blackness.

"Thank you, Craig." Token glanced over at Tweek and clasped his own hand to Craig’s shoulder, "See to it that Tweek doesn’t cry wolf and stir the whole camp for nothing."

"Right." Craig flipped Token off once his eyes were off him and he was heading to his tent. "Are you alright Tweek?" this was a fruitless question Craig knew, but Tweek raving about his fears was better than watching Tweek tremble silently and retreat inwardly.

"I-I can’t tell which is worse, thinking of dying in my tent, not seeing the monsters coming. Or dying outside the tent and seeing the monsters coming," Tweek’s eyes darted looking for the means of their demise.

"Well, stop thinking about dying first off." Craig offered, hugging the fur about himself. "I can’t…It’s..," Tweek stared at the pitch dredge of the dead campfire until Craig spoke up, catching on to why Tweek was so spooked.

"It’s that asshole, Kenny Mccormick. He wouldn’t shut up about people dying, about monsters he said he saw in the fat wizard’s books." Tweek nodded and relayed what he had heard from the hooded rogue, "He said…’Someone on this journey is gonna die! And it ain’t gonna be me!’ Gah! How does he know!?" Tweek continued to tug at the roots of his hair and Craig threw up his hands in irritation, "He doesn’t! He’s just cursed himself saying something so stupid." Tweak shuffled close to Craig, convinced he saw the pointy hat of a forest gnome amidst the shrubberies, "I don’t want to die, Craig…"

"You don’t want to die after growing old in South Park do you, just a boring life?" Craig bid Tweek to consider the alternative, but the blonde responded by asking, "Don’t you?"

Tweek looked intently at Craig but his flat features betrayed only a twitch from the corner of his lip. A smile maybe. Or a frown.

"Not with our parents still alive. I mean, I can’t stand them," Craig clarifies for Tweak. "Maybe the tower will say that’s our destiny, to grow old somewhere boring." Craig offers a rare joke with a smile that infects Tweak and he’s glad for it.

"Gh…I hear singing…I-Is it the forest witches? The siren dryads? The-," Tweek’s vain attempts to identify the source of the singing is cut off by Craig. "It’s Kenny singing and Butters playing the mandolin. I can tell. You can stop prattling off monsters." The pair are silent for awhile listening until Tweek whispers, "Did you hear about the owlbearmaid?"

"The what," Craig’s jovial smile broke into a disbelieving flat line.

"The owlbearmaid!" Eric declares, pointing to a ripped out page in his monster compendium and explaining what once was detailed there. "Cartman, that’s horse shit!" Kyle scoffs on cue and Eric continues unabated. "Half owlbear! Half maiden!" Cartman insists and Kyle shakes his head, sitting legs folded next to Stan with an open bottle of spiced wine between them.

"Owlbears are already half owl and half bear fatass, where the fuck does the half woman even factor in!?" Stan rose to Kyle’s aid in the argument to no one’s surprise, "My uncle Jimbo never said he hunted an owlbearmaid." Cartman had an answer for that of course, "He probably didn’t hunt it Stan, he probably fucked it." Kenny shrugged, trying to savor the pithy amount of wine Kyle shared with him, the redhead bogarting the rest of it with Stan, "As long as it was the maid part, what’s the big deal?" The sudden raunchy statement juxtaposing their heated argument snapped the tension in twain and the boys all laughed. Butters was glad to sing with Kenny again and just as glad to be sharing in their late night banter even if he couldn’t think of anything to add.

Cartman clasped the book of monsters shut, looking smug, “We’ve already fought more monsters than everyone in that other camp combined. We’re going to get a super sweet quest for the highest tier of sweet loot, I just know it.”

"Not that many…Turkeys and mutated crabs hardly count," Kyle mumbles. "We’ve only gotten stronger since then. Well, I have. I’m gonna bust so many mad spells, you guys. Seriously." Cartman folds his arms into his cloak, feeling a chill. Kenny nudged Butters seeing his head bob forward with his eyes closed, "Hey, are you tired?"

The boy snapped his head up “Huh? Well, maybe I’m tired…” Butters mumbled, not tired at all but ruminating on his capacity to really help the party fight monsters.

"Yeah, let’s go to bed," Kyle figured then was as good a time as any. Kyle moved to try and drag Stan and the bottle of wine to the tent, but Stan ended up being the one to have to do so.

Cartman put out the fire with a scowl, “Pussies can’t stay up late..,” he returned to his tent to find Butters and Kenny lying apart from eachother surprisingly enough.”It’s really cold,” Butters stated. “Yeah,” Kenny added. “Get in the middle, chubby?” Kenny suggested in a casual manner-of-fact way that left Cartman little choice but to accept and not be seen stammering, settling between the two who quickly hugged themselves to his warm body. “Fucking assholes, what were you thinking being born in South Park if you can’t take the cold.”

"Sorry Cartman, thanks for letting us stay in your tent." Kenny yawned and threw a leg over Cartman’s. "Y-Yeah Eric, we really appreciate it. Want to hear a bed time story now?" Butters offered, tentatively resting his hand over the wizard’s belly. "No, just go the fuck to sleep!" Cartman hissed bashfully and his bedfellows hid their smiles.

"You sure did share a lot of my wine. Had more than I did, I think." Stan set Kyle down on the tent floor carefully, batting the bottle away when Kyle tried to set it to his lips while mumbling an apology, "I’m sorry Stanley, here finish it off, it is your gift."

"You know I prefer ‘Stan’. And no thank you, it’s just dregs now. Don’t you drink it, you’re going to get a hangover."

"Why not ‘Stanley’? It’s so…Chivalrous." Kyle whispered theatrically, "I wish my name was Stanley."

"Go on, take my name," Stan gave a wry laugh and spread himself out on the tent floor. "I’d love to," Kyle responded earnestly and the two paused at that for awhile until Stan continued, "So I’ll take your name?"

"No don’t, you’re not a Kyle at all," the redhead frowned.

"I know, you’re a Kyle," Stan placated his drunk friend.

"You think so?" 

"Yes, you’re a Kyle. A very drunk Kyle."

"You sure are saying my name a lot. I like it. Say it some more?"

"A very, very drunk Kyle you are. Kyle." Stan repeated Kyle’s name as he twisted in the cradle of Stan’s arms pressed to his body, heedlessly close to him like they hadn’t been in years. "More…" the need in his friend’s voice stirred Stan, drawing his lips closer to his long pale ear to whisper breathily, "Kyle…"

Stan couldn’t help but chuckle at Kyle’s reaction, all flushed and murmuring with his brow stitched. “Kyle?” “Yes Stan…?” Kyle wound his arms around Stan’s back, feeling drunk and exhausted and struggling to stay lucid and awake.

"I was wondering if you’d say my name." Stan teased and Kyle rolled his face along his chest to his neck, lips to his flesh and moving to speak, "Stan. Stan…Stan…" he imparted new inflection to each iteration, from whining to chastising, clumsily sliding his lips from his neck to his ear planting kisses between whispers, elated further by Stan’s response.

Deep breaths, roaming hands, whispers in kind. Each boy inwardly thought of a moment when these heated bashful whispers of eachother’s names would climax in triumphant shouts until they simply couldn’t be seperated. Stan and Kyle. Off on their own adventure, free from prying eyes. Before all this they had each committed to the dishonest drudgery of restraining themselves from eachother to appease some kind of filial or social duty and here in the frozen wilds where they made their own destiny, they decided in the space of their bated breaths to commit only to eachother from now on; the feeling of shrugging off their old selves and looking for the new was so liberating it was practically divine. Kyle was perched atop of Stan’s waist, appreciating how much their breaths had synched, and even the timing of their blinking eyes tried to align. “The gift you mentioned before…It’s you isn’t it?” Kyle traced his fingers over Stan’s chest.

"No, but…"

"But what?" Kyle asked."But…It’s clearly what you want." Kyle rocked his waist slowly and nodded his head in response but asked, "What do you want?" he had to get it out of him. Stan’s word was law, and he would have Stan at his word that this night meant something.

"Here are some hints: Red…Exotic…Intoxicating…" Stan mused.

"More wine, Stan?"

"No. You." the two laughed easily, and joined together in bliss; a fire burning brightly in the cold and dark, hidden embers that had bided their time and exploded in a roaring blaze of glory. What, if anything, could extinguish such a burning desire?


End file.
